the day after:

the streets opened up,

and the barricades tore down,

and it rained,

and rained like a purging.

I came out of the shop holding:

fresh dill, coriander,

spices, and a crate of tomatoes.

A kind woman walked me to my car,

under her umbrella,

said she was worried I’d get wet.

I asked her how she was,

she said you know and shrugged.

I went and saw my family

my dad made:

lentils, fresh baclava,

rice with split peas.

he made me watch how he made it;

said it was with love, all proud.

I arrived all wet

and it rained

and rained like a purging.

and in the morning

there was sun.